In The Light
by SecretsAndLiesContest
Summary: Tell me what you are.


**Secrets and Lies Contest Entry**

 **Title: In the Light**

 **Summary:** _ **Tell me what you are**_ **.**

 **Pairing: Edward and Bella**

 **Rating: M**

 **Word Count: 9344**

 **DISCLAIMER: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entries herein. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**

**In the Light**

"Just the check, please, if you can manage it," the obnoxious brunette snips as she hands the waiter her AmEx then waves him off with a flick of her wrist and a cluck of her tongue. "So disappointing."

"Truly," her friend with the fiery red hair hidden beneath an oversized floppy sun hat adds. "This place used to be one of my favorites."

The brunette runs her bony finger over her strand of pearls and eyes the patrons around her, me included. "Mine too, before they let the riff-raff in."

Red bursts into laughter while her companion chuckles smugly. I'm smiling right along with them as I lift my phone to snap a photo of them.

"Gotcha," I whisper before uploading the picture into the facial recognition app I've been working on. _One. Two. Three_. I count the seconds until the words _MATCHES FOUND_ fill the screen.

With a press of a button, I now have all the personal information of both Mary Alice Whitlock, nee Brandon, and Victoria Riley, nee James. Both women are unemployed, married to money, and lucky for me, they house all of their monetary holdings in the very capable albeit very corrupt hands of Volturi Financial.

"Tsk-tsk, girls," I mutter as I debate on scaring the shit out of my former colleagues in security at Volturi by waging a brute force attack on the system. Time is of the essence though, so instead I opt to sneak in the back door, bypassing authentication and seeking out their information. My fingers furiously tap the screen, freezing both of the women's accounts citing suspicious activity and cleaning up any evidence of my breach. "You should always diversify."

Slipping my phone into my purse, I settle back into my seat to take a sip of my mojito and wait for what goes around to come around. The waiter looks frantic as he runs the card again and again before calling over the manager.

"What's taking so long?" Red says, pushing back her sheer sleeve to check her watch. "I've got a tennis lesson in a half an hour."

"It's the incompetent server, I'm sure."

Just as she turns to check on said server, the manager approaches their table and bends down to speak quietly. "I'm sorry, Ms. Whitlock, I'm afraid your card has been declined."

Red covers her mouth, whether it's to stifle a gasp or a giggle I'm not sure, but Mrs. Whitlock looks positively aghast. "WHAT?"

The manager repeats himself and advises they've tried it several times. The look on her face is priceless. It's a nice cross between mortification and pure rage.

"Perhaps you have an alternative method of payment for your meals?" the manager offers and it's hard to miss the amusement in his voice. "Cash perhaps?"

"Oh, for the love." Red rolls her eyes, reaches into her clutch and thrusts another card into the manager's hand.

"There must be some kind of mistake," a now thoroughly humiliated Mrs. Whitlock reasons as she digs through her bag to scrounge up some cash that she knows she doesn't carry.

Red gives her a condescending smile and a pat on the knee. "I'm sure it is, sweetie." Her superiority is short-lived however when the manager returns a few minutes later.

Sipping the last of my drink, I watch the women quietly come unhinged as side-eyes are cast and low murmurs sound from the surrounding tables. I scroll through their personal information again and briefly consider suspending their cell phone service so they're unable to call in reinforcements. Ultimately, I decide against it and opt for a more fitting approach.

After dropping a few bills on my check, I make my way over to their table where the manager is no longer enduring their abuse and is now threatening to contact the authorities. My eyes move to the nametag on his jacket. _Randall_.

"That won't be necessary, Randall," I interrupt, waving some cash in his direction. "This should cover it."

Bowing his head, he accepts the money. "Thank you so much, Miss–"

"No thanks necessary. Thank _you_ for another wonderful dining experience."

"We're thrilled you enjoyed it, Miss–"

"It was perfection," I cut him off again just as Mrs. Whitlock stands to shake my hand and presumably extend her appreciation. "Though I do think that perhaps the maître d' could be a bit more selective with the patrons." With a glib smile on my face, I glance at the riff-raff in question. "You can't just let anyone in here, after all."

A loud laugh from one of the gentlemen sitting at the table near theirs drowns out the women's huffs and how-dare-yous. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the well-dressed man clasp his hands together and steeple his fingers as he sits back in his seat. The majority of the side of his face is covered by his silky, jet black asymmetrical bangs, so I'm unable to get a good look, but his laughter follows me out of the restaurant.

Stepping outside, I slip my glasses onto my face and look out over the beautiful Baie de Saint Jean. Blue skies, white sands, and crystal-clear water as far as the eye can see. A quick flash of cash and I've got a sun-lounger near the water and another mojito on the way. Closing my eyes, I let the sun wash over me when I hear three slow claps.

Turning in the direction of the noise, I see the man from the restaurant approaching with a smile on his face and a cabana boy with a sun-lounger in tow.

"That was spectacular."

I shrug, trying not to sound too proud of myself. "It felt appropriate."

"You're ruthless and I'm smitten." Once the cabana boy is thanked, tipped, and out of earshot, the man leans down and takes my hand in his, smiling so wide he nearly shows all of his teeth. "It's a pleasure to meet you … _Miss Swan_."

I feel the color drain from my face and I remove my hand from his grasp. "I'm sorry. You must have me mistaken for–"

"Isabella Marie Swan. Graduated from MIT at the top of your class. Immediately recruited by Aro Volturi himself to head up his firm's application and software development. Rebuilt their networking and security system from the ground up and streamlined the applications for their growing global consumer base. You're the owner of over 175 tech patents and up until about six months ago, you were Aro's most prized possession. That is until you stumbled across his skimming scheme."

My eyes widen as he takes his seat.

"Millions and millions of dollars quietly socked away in offshore accounts, going relatively unnoticed by their customers a few cents at a time. I must say we were quite impressed by the balls it took for you to call it to his attention. Truly darling, what were you thinking?"

"I –"

"Clearly you weren't because he sacked you right then and there, didn't he?" He shakes his head. "No severance, no recommendation, no nothing after years and years of service." Removing his sunglasses, he grins. "But you didn't take that sitting down now did you?"

"How–"

"No sir. You had the sheer audacity to hack into the system you built, returning the money to each client out of the personal accounts of Volturi's board of directors, taking no more and no less than what was owed each customer." He pauses when my drink arrives and waits until the server leaves to continue. "It was brilliant really. You left them no recourse. They couldn't very well report you for stealing back what they stole, now could they? Nor would they be in the position to turn you in for skimming a little off the top of their accounts."

"I took what–"

"You took what _you_ were owed, yes. Payout for your vacation days, personal time, and a sizable though fair severance, isn't that right?"

"How do you –"

"We know who you are and more importantly, what you're capable of Miss Swan." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Or may I call you _Bella_?"

I swallow and repeat my question. "How do you know all of this?"

Reclining back on his lounger, he stretches his legs and slides his hands behind his head. "How do we know who you are and what you did? That I can't answer, but I will tell you that we're most definitely impressed. My partner especially."

I sit up and lean forward, mimicking his earlier position. "What is it you want from me, mister …" I drag out the word and lower my shades.

He grins. "Yorkie."

"Mr. Yorkie."

"No. Just Yorkie."

"Your name is _Yorkie_?" He nods. "Just one name? Like Cher or something."

He brushes his bangs out of his eye. "I'd prefer it if you'd associate me with someone a little more fabulous and current, like Adele or Beyoncé."

"Madonna?"

"Ugh." He shakes his head. "She's lucky we still claim her after that unfortunate carpool karaoke twerking incident."

"Yeah that was kind of sad."

"Tragic. But let's get back to the matter at hand. We've been looking for you for months."

"Okay, gotta say it, you're creeping me out."

"Why?"

"With all the _we, we, we_ business. Who's we?" I snap my fingers. "Better question. What does _we_ want with me?"

" _We'd_ like to offer you an opportunity."

"An opportunity?"

He nods. "A job."

"Who are you? LinkedIn?"

"No. I'm Yorkie."

"There you are!" A stocky, slightly balding, blond man calls out as he trudges through the sand.

"Is _this_ your partner?"

Yorkie snorts. "He wishes."

"But weren't you dining with him earlier?"

The blond stops in his tracks, eying me skeptically. "I didn't think you actually saw us."

I nod, but Yorkie speaks before I can get a word out.

"Of course she saw us, nitwit. How could she not notice a devastatingly handsome, impeccably dressed man sitting with a 40-something, hot mess with hair plugs?"

The blond rolls his eyes and shifts a white box from one hand to the other. "My name is Demetri, Miss Swan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." I look at Yorkie. "Do all of you go by single monikers?"

"Does he look like he could pull off a single moniker? I think not." I watch as he grabs the box from Demetri and shoos him away. "Back to business, Miss Swan. We're interested in offering you the opportunity of a lifetime."

"I'm not really looking for–"

"Really? Because your alias's job hunting activity seems to indicate you're very eager for work."

"How do you–"

"We're very good at what we do. Even Demetri over there." He jerks his head in the blond's direction. "He's often able to procure resources for us, though I must say you made it quite challenging."

"What gave me away?"

"It's not what, it's _whom_. Aro Volturi is a proud, pompous man as you know. Seven months ago, he was boasting about your capabilities on a golf course in Scotland. We took note, especially after your rather abrupt departure a little over a month later. It took us nearly three days to breach the system you built which you should know is quite the testament to your skills."

"How did you–"

"But once it was penetrated, it was fairly easy to get a hold of your employee file."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I quirk a brow. "And how did that work out for you?"

"Not well." He smirks. "You've been very clever about covering your tracks."

"Then how did you find me here?"

"Your pesky penchant to be the model employee."

"What do you mean?"

"Your vacation request."

My eyes widen as I remember emailing Aro the location and dates for my much-needed island getaway. "I see."

"I'm glad. And surely you _also_ see that you've been blacklisted at all the tech companies in your field?"

"I suspected."

"Well then. Now that your suspicions are confirmed, are you interested to hear what we're willing to offer?"

"I suppose I'd be amiable."

"Excellent." He stands and steps in front of the foot of my chair, blocking my sun completely. "Tomorrow night then."

"Tomorrow?"

Nodding, he hands me the white box. "My partner would prefer to discuss the details with you tomorrow, eight sharp."

"What's in here?" I ask, inspecting the outside of the box and running my finger over the words _Villa Vitti_ stamped into wax emblem. "And what's Villa Vitti?"

"The address."

"Why's it sealed?"

"You ask too many questions."

"And you answer none. Now seriously, if this is some kind of severed body part I'm going to be really upset."

He laughs and motions his hand down his outfit. "Do I look like a serial killer to you?"

"You're wearing man-capris, you're clearly capable of anything."

"I'll have you know that manpris are very hot right now in Europe."

"So are speedos."

"Speedos can be nice."

"Not when accessorized with back hair."

"True."

"So back to the box, what do I do with this?"

"You wear it with a dress."

"A dress?"

"Preferably a black one and something a little shapelier than the frock you're wearing now."

I give him a look. "Keep it up and I'll show up in Crocs."

"You would own Crocs, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe."

Sliding his sunglasses back on his face, he turns to walk away, but not before calling over his shoulder, "Tomorrow night, eight sharp."

Once he's out of sight I break the seal and open the box to find a gold lioness masquerade mask with a large emerald colored stone set just above the eyes. Beneath it, there is a beautifully hand-scripted note with three words that leave me with more questions than answers.

 _Find Your Pride._

 **~ITL~**

"You made it," a familiar voice rings out from behind a sleek panther mask. "And Croc-free, I see." Yorkie steps over and offers his arm. "Love the dress."

"What? This old shapeless frock?" I run my hand over the silhouette of the form-fitting chiffon number before linking my arm with his.

"Don't get cocky; those shoes are just this side of rinky-dink."

"Says the man wearing an ascot."

"Flawlessly, I might add." He toasts me and sips his champagne.

"So, what's the deal here?" I ask, sweeping my hand at all the well-disguised and elegantly-dressed guests mingling in the bright, open space. "Is this an orgy or what?"

Yorkie smiles. "Sadly, no."

"I figured it wasn't, but it's got the whole _Eyes Wide Shut_ vibe."

Leading me outside, he greets several people as we make our way near the edge of the infinity pool overlooking the ocean. They all eye us curiously and I briefly wonder why there's the need for secrecy when they all clearly know each other.

"Where's your partner?"

"He's around here somewhere."

"You'd think since he wanted me here at eight sharp, he'd be the one to welcome me."

"I'm sure he'll find you shortly if you don't find him first."

"Yeah well, in the meantime, I'm going to find the bar."

"What about your _pride_?"

"My pride _and_ my dignity are both nowhere to be found as evidenced by the fact that I've been lured to a masquerade party by a random guy who's dressed like Fred from _Scooby Doo_ in a panther mask."

He gasps. "That's the meanest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Give me a few drinks and I'll see what else I can come up with."

He chuckles then drains the last of his champagne. "But back to your pride for a moment."

"Like I said, it's–"

"No dumb-dumb." He taps the nose on my mask. "You need to find your pride."

Lion. Pride. I see.

It becomes clearer when I look around the party and notice many of the couples have coordinating male and female animal masks. Some stand in large groups of the same animal, the only difference being the color of the jewel on their mask.

"Okay, so I'm looking for a lion."

"You're looking for your mate." He touches the emerald gem on my forehead. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must mingle with the other guests. You can't keep me all to yourself, Miss Swan."

He disappears into the crowd and I'm left standing there alone. Through the sea of guests, I see a shock of white hair atop a gold mask that looks like it could be a mane. Then another behind him, though the mane is black. Weaving my way through the crowd, I make my way in their direction, excited by the prospect of finding my pride and God-willing, a job.

I see them now. They're tall and broad shouldered, standing proudly with their lionesses at their sides. Guests are practically falling over themselves to get a few moments of their time.

"Excuse me." I feel a warm hand on my arm and turn to find a man in a wolf mask smiling, well … wolfishly. "I saw you earlier with Yorkie, I just wanted to introduce myself." He offers his hand. "I'm Jacob."

I look back to the pride who are on the move again, then back to Jacob. "Bella."

"You're new here, right? What's your field?"

"Tech," I answer quickly, standing on my tiptoes so I can keep tabs on their movements. "You?"

"Law." The word rolls of his tongue so smooth, like he's expecting me to hand him my panties in response. "Programmer?"

I almost laugh. "Something like that."

"Care to join me for a drink?"

"There you are," a deep voice from behind me interrupts.

Jacob's head snaps up and his voice falters. "Masen."

I turn to the sound of the voice and there beneath a gold mask, a bronze mane and a perfectly tailored tux, I find my pride.

"Forgive my tardiness, Miss Swan. I'm afraid I've been detained trying to console my partner after a guest made an egregious remark about his ascot."

"In my defense, he started it." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even consider the thought that making fun of his partner may be frowned upon.

Thankfully, the corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. "I'm sure he had it coming." He offers his arm. "Shall we?"

I nod and slip my hand just above his elbow. With a parting glance and a wave of my fingers, I excuse myself from Jacob as we walk away.

I swear it feels like there are fifty pairs of eyes on me while he leads me back to the area overlooking the ocean. He motions for a server then casually leans against the railing. "How about a drink?"

"How about an introduction?"

Smirking, he drops his head and shakes it slightly. "Yes. Of course." He rubs the back of his neck and looks up, extending his other hand. "Forgive me, Miss Swan, I'm not great in social situations. I'm Edward Masen."

"No worries." I place my hand in his and shake it like I've got a pair. "And please call me Bella."

"Bella."

"For what it's worth, your intro went way smoother than your partner's."

His smirk widens to a full-on grin. "Yes, he did mention an awkward footwear and Speedo conversation, but I'm glad you still decided to join us tonight in spite of it."

A server approaches and offers us champagne. Edward nods in acknowledgement, thanking the older gentleman by name though he's not wearing a name tag. I notice there's a familiarity there as they trade pleasantries while he takes the flutes from the silver tray. He asks the man about his wife and kids, knowing them by name as well and regarding his responses with genuine interest. Although my father's been gone for many years, his thoughts on being able to tell a lot about a person by the way they treat waitstaff comes to mind.

"So," he hands me my glass, "are you enjoying your time on the island?"

"I am. It's very relaxing."

"Been taking in the sights and the nightlife?"

"Not really." I glance out at the ocean. "I'm more of a beach with a book and a beer kind of girl."

"Me too," he blurts before shaking his head, embarrassed when he realizes what he said. "I mean … I prefer relaxing in a more low-key manner. All of this," he gestures to the party, "isn't really my scene."

"Mine either. Although, I admit the mated masks have me curious."

Slipping his hand in his pocket, he steps beside me to lookout over the guests. "This is what happens when you give Yorkie creative control."

I snort.

"You've gotta admit though, the man has style."

"Who are these people?"

"From what I can tell, the masks indicate the group affiliation or family. Jacob for instance, he

practices—"

"Law."

"That's right."

I shrug one shoulder when he raises an eyebrow at how I knew that. "He casually mentioned it."

"Of course he did," he mutters, sounding unsurprised. "Anyway, he's grouped with other attorneys."

"The wolves."

"You've got it."

"So, they're grouped by what they do?"

"Yes."

"Can I guess?"

"Sure."

"Okay, so the bulls are pretty obvious. Wall Street?"

"Correct."

"Owls I'm guessing are academia."

"Very good."

Narrowing my eyes, I twist my lips. "I'm stumped on the jackals."

He brings his glass to his lips. "Financial sector."

"Accurate." I nod. "So, wait, why aren't you and Yorkie wearing the same mask?"

"We don't technically _do_ the same thing, but based on our firm's initiatives, we're partnered together."

"Ah, okay," I say like I get it, even though I have no clue what that means. "So panthers, then ... Fashion maybe?"

"More of an influencer." He motions to a few other people wearing the same mask holding court in a gauzy cabana. "Panthers are elusive and stealthy. They're able to exist and adapt in several different habitats. His group is largely made up of those who sway perceptions and inspire. Fashion houses and editors. Celebrities and activists."

"They can function effectively in any environment."

"Precisely."

I face him. "And the lion is for tech?"

Tilting his head, he eyes the pride of lions I saw earlier who are now watching us from across the pool. "Not exactly."

"But you _are_ in tech, right?"

"I am. The lion is actually more representative of … _my family_ and what they do."

"What is it that they do?"

"They dabble in several industries," he says evasively with a bit of a lopsided grin before raising his glass to the only one in the group left staring at us. "That's my stepfather." The tall male with the white mane and the diamond gemstone on his mask nods in acknowledgement. "Carlisle Cullen."

" _Oh_." I swear I should get a medal for not blurting 'get the fuck out' when he casually mentions his step-dad's name. "As in Carlisle Cullen, the head of The Cullen Group."

"I'm guessing you've heard of him?"

"I think you'd be pretty hard-pressed to find someone who hasn't. The strides Cullen Group has made in the technology and information security fields are widely renowned, but their philanthropic work is legendary."

"My mother will be pleased to hear that." Taking a sip of the champagne, he makes a sour face as he swallows it down. "Ugh."

"Not a fan of Dom?"

"I'm not a fan of any champagne."

"Me either. We could go grab a drink at the bar if you want."

He glances out at the ocean. "I've got a better idea. Come on." He grabs my hand and leads me back through the crowd. We weave in and out, exchanging rushed hellos with several guests as we go. Slipping through an open door behind the bar, we find ourselves in a bustling kitchen filled with cooks plating trays of hors d'oeuvres with a few impatient servers looking on.

Opening a large stainless subzero fridge, he gestures to the drink selection. "Pick your poison."

"Ooh, let's keep it beach-y. I'll take a Carib."

"You got it." He grabs a couple of six-packs and kicks the door closed. "Let's get out of here."

I follow him back outside and down a sand-covered staircase that leads to a small strip of beach. The view is spectacular with the moon over the water, reflecting off the waves.

"It's gorgeous," I say, slipping my mask off and taking in the sight before me. When he doesn't reply, I chance a peek in his direction.

No longer concealed by his golden disguise, his bright green eyes gleam in the moonlight. Awkwardly running a hand through his unruly hair, he grins at me and his reply comes out quiet. " _Stunning_."

Something about the way he's looking at me tells me he's not talking about the scenery. I turn away, blushing and kicking off my horribly uncomfortable shoes.

"Your feet hurt?"

Nodding, I plop down onto one of the Adirondack chairs along the water's edge. "I should've worn my Crocs."

He laughs, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his jacket. "You should've."

Burying my feet in the sand, I lean back in my seat and watch him roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "So, is this the part of the interview where you ask me to tell you about myself?"

"No. This isn't an interview." He slips off his shoes and socks and takes a seat beside me. "Plus I'm terrible at small talk. You'll have to bear with me."

"Me too."

Reaching down, he grabs a couple cans and hands one to me. "So," he cracks open his beer, "MIT, right?"

"Yes. You?"

"Caltech."

I pull the tab on my drink. "Aww, I'm sorry."

He smirks. "Academic institution aside, I admit we're seriously impressed by all of your achievements in the field. As a matter of fact, you've been on Carlisle's radar since your sophomore year in college."

"Really?"

"One of your professors, a Dr. Peters brought you to our attention. Put you at the top of our one's to watch list."

 _Garrett_. "Oh, of course, Dr. Peters. Such a great guy, he was actually one of my mentors." _Both in the classroom and the bedroom._ I look away to hide my smile, not wanting to give away that I was Garrett's favorite student and mid-life crisis all in one. "He taught me everything I know."

"He told my father you were remarkable, but Aro snatched you up before we could approach you."

"Well we both know that didn't end well."

"It didn't, but the way you handled it has only strengthened our resolve to bring you on at The Cullen Group."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"How'd Yorkie know what I did at Volturi?"

Looking down, he fiddles with the tab of his beer can. "That's a long story."

"I've got time."

He clears his throat. "Aro was uncharacteristically quiet about your departure."

"I'm sure he was," I mutter, taking a sip of my drink.

"That coupled with the fact that you were suddenly off the grid got us curious so we asked around."

"Was it an inside job then? You flashed a little coin and they gave you carte blanche to tool around the Volturi network?"

"Not exactly."

"Someone on the inside had to have helped you. Which one was it?"

He stares out at the water, avoiding my question. Yorkie's words from the day before play through my mind. _It took us nearly three days to breach the system you built._ There's only one person at Volturi who could've possibly got them in.

"It was Seth Clearwater, wasn't it?" _That asshole_. "He helped you hack in, didn't he?"

"No," he shakes his head slowly, "not Seth or anyone from Volturi." His eyes dart to mine. " _Just me_."

I stare at him slack-jawed, unable to decide if I'm furious or impressed.

"The system you built … I've never seen anything like it. Dr. Peters was wrong about you, you know.

Remarkable doesn't do you justice."

My fury fades.

"You're absolutely brilliant."

Well then … color me impressed.

 **~ITL~**

"Okay," he cracks open the second to last beer left and sucks the spray off his thumb, "what was your first successful hack?"

"Freshman year at MIT. I took this ridiculous philosophy class and the professor was certifiable. I'm talking a total Trelawney, assigning grades on a non-subject." I roll my eyes. "Anyway, she gave me a B and I couldn't let that stand."

"You changed your grade?"

"You're damn right, I did. What about you? What was your first?"

He leans back in his seat and slides his hand behind his head. "Ticketmaster."

"I'm almost afraid to ask which concert."

"Ha! I'm almost afraid to tell you."

Narrowing my eyes, I stare at him a moment. After two hours, several beers, and an extensive discussion on all of my technological achievements, it occurs to me that I know very little about my ridiculously handsome drinking companion. Apart from his well-known family, higher education institution, and extraordinary hacking abilities, this man is a total mystery to me.

But I know what I like when I see it.

And from what I can tell, green eyes and gorgeous face aside, Edward Masen is formidable in every way that matters.

"How old are you, Edward?"

Swallowing his drink, he lolls his head in my direction. "Thirty-two. You?"

I smirk. "How old did my employee file say I was?"

He tightens his lips and says nothing.

"I can't believe you were able to breach my security system."

He shrugs. "If it makes you feel better, it took me a while."

"How long exactly?"

"Two days, six hours, forty-two minutes."

"Impossible. I built the damn thing and it took me three days to figure out how to hack into it during the testing phase. I thought I caught everything though."

"Almost everything."

I raise an eyebrow. "You must be _really_ good."

"Good? _Nah_." He places his can in the sand and slides his other hand back beneath his neck. "I'm the best."

The smug, cocksure grin he's giving me makes me want to slap him … and kiss him. One more than the other, but for now I'll settle for humbling him.

"Prove it."

 **~ITL~**

"Okay, here's how this'll go," he says as he leads me around the main house to a patio off the side. "We'll each select two places to hack into so we'll have a choice of four. Timer starts at the first keystroke, whoever breaches the selected system first wins the round. We'll go best of three."

"Got it." I follow him through a set of French doors to a large bedroom. The room is dark apart from the glow of the screen from the laptop on the desk. "Whose room is this?"

He logs in to his computer. "Mine."

Doing my best to ignore the comfy looking California King bed, I focus on the task at hand. "Got a scrambler?"

Pulling open a drawer from the desk, he pulls out a pad of Post-its and hands me two slips. "Of course."

"And you're confident we're secure."

"I'm positive."

"Good, because I doubt you'd survive in prison."

He tosses me a pen. "Don't make the targets too easy."

"Definitely not." I bend down to scribble the names of the marks on the bright green squares. "I like a challenge."

"All right, so I've selected," he holds up his slips of paper, "WikiLeaks and Lucasfilm."

I quirk a brow at him. "Lucasfilm?"

"Just so see how Star Wars Episode IX is coming along."

"Nerd."

"What'd you pick?"

"I went with Caltech."

"Nice."

I show him my second Post-it. "And Tiffany Haddish's texts and phone records."

"Do I even want to know why you want to hack Tiffany Haddish?"

"Um, because I want to solve the greatest mystery of the twenty-first century thus far and tell _no one_."

"Which _is_ …"

"Who bit Beyoncé?"

"Wow. All right." He grabs the Post-its and fans them out like cards. "Ladies first."

Plucking one from the middle, I notice the corners of his lips tilt up. When I turn it around, I see it's his dear-old-alma-mater. "Looks like I'll get to take a peek at your permanent record."

" _If_ you can get in," he challenges, pulling the desk chair out for me.

 _Silly man_. Sweeping my hair up and twisting it into a bun, I shove a pen through the tightly wound strands to secure it. "This shouldn't take too long."

"Ready." He opens the stopwatch on his phone. "Set." I straighten in my seat, looking every bit as poised and confident as I feel until I feel his breath at my ear. "Go."

My fingers move over the keyboard quickly. Through narrowed eyes, I search for any vulnerable spots in the application while simultaneously bombarding the system with commands and requests in hopes of overwhelming it so it crashes.

The entire time I work, he's standing over me and watching me move through the screens. Every now and again, he'll lean forward to get a better look at the code. His hand grips the top of my chair, brushing the back of my neck as he goes.

"You're being very distracting you know."

"Am I?" he asks, amused.

"Too bad it's not working." I press the stop button on his phone screen. "Nine minutes and seventeen seconds."

"Not bad."

"Let's see here." I scroll through his course credits. "Straight-A's, Mr. Masen. Very impressive."

"Obviously."

"And an A+ in Women's Studies. I'll bet the Caltech ladies loved that."

"Sadly no."

"Pity."

He smiles. "My turn."

"Well now I don't know. You watched my every keystroke. I'm not sure it's fair that you hack into the same school considering I did all the legwork."

"Fine." He pushes up his sleeves. "MIT it is then."

"You can _try_."

"I will. And when I do," he leans forward once again and drops his voice, "I'm going to have to change your Philosophy grade back to a B."

I slide up in my seat until we're nearly nose to nose. "Good luck with that."

He takes my place at the desk, cracking his neck and wiggling his fingers before letting them hover over the keyboard. "Ready when you are."

"Go."

His fingers move over the keys rapidly and with ease. Each stroke is precise and confident. The moment I figure out what he's doing, I realize I'm going to lose this round. Circling around him, I see that he's coding a string into the system that will scan for open ports instead of searching manually like I did. It's a calculated risk that looks like it just might pay off.

"Time?"

Bending forward, I block his view with my body as I reach for the phone, but he continues to type. "Four minutes, nine seconds."

"Are you _trying_ to distract me?" he breathes, his keystrokes faltering slightly.

"Is it working?"

He strikes the keyboard roughly three more times and clears his throat. My eyes follow the rise and fall of his Adam's apple before meeting his gaze. "Maybe."

"Because that's what you're doing, isn't it?" I run my teeth over my bottom lip. "Exploiting the system to find vulnerabilities."

His fingers continue to click behind me, but he doesn't look away. A beep sounds from the computer as he types out one final command. "Done!"

"Dam—"

Before I can even get the word out, he's cradling my face in his hands and crushing his mouth to mine. His soft lips move hard, coaxing mine open to tease me with the tip of his tongue. Panting into his mouth, my eager hands join the frenzy, one curling around his neck to bring him closer while the other slips down his chest. A quiet moan falls from his lips just before he catches my wrist to still my movements.

"I'm sorry, I …" He shakes his head as he pulls back, sliding the chair away from me. "I shouldn't have done that."

I step toward him. "Edward—"

"That was alarmingly unprofessional and I—"

"Edward—"

"—in no way wanted to put you in a position where you felt —"

"Edward!" I climb in his lap, tilting his chin up to face me and silencing him with my finger. "You didn't put me in any position that I didn't want to be in." Lowering my voice, I speak quietly against his cheek. "I'm a grown woman … and a _consenting_ adult."

He inhales sharply when I shift my weight over him.

"And what's more," I murmur as I ghost my lips up along his jaw and bring my mouth to his ear, "I can keep a secret."

His hands take hold of my hips, steadying me.

"Can _you_ keep a secret, Edward?"

I feel his breath draw in and out against the hollow of my throat, then the flex of his fingers gripping me tightly. His words come out in a groan. "I can."

 **~ITL~**

The next morning, I wake up to sunshine and the sounds of the waves lapping softly on the shore in the distance. Stretching my arms, I look out through the French doors to find Edward sitting at a table, sipping his coffee.

Flashes of moments from last night come back to me. His breath on my neck while he slowly lowered the zipper of my dress. The hungry look in his eyes as his tongue worked its way up my inner thigh. The sound of my pulse pounding in my ears when he pinned my hands to the mattress and moaned against my throat while slipping inside of me. His heated gaze in the moments after when we laid there sweat-soaked and spent and barely able to catch our breath.

Sighing at the memory, I grip the tangled sheets and wrap them around my body as he saunters in all shirtless, sun-kissed, and grinning.

"Good morning."

"Morning," I hum when he kneels on the bed beside me.

"Feeling okay?"

"Never better. You?"

"I'm torn."

"Between what?"

"Apologizing for my behavior and doing it again."

I lower the sheet. "I vote for doing it again."

"You're killing me. You know that don't you?"

"I don't." I comb my fingers through his hair. "I admit I don't know you as well as I'd like to."

"Same."

Dropping the sheet, I push him back onto the bed and hover over him. "But here's what I do know about you." I peck him on the lips. "You're charming."

"Go on."

"Handsome."

He smirks. "True."

"Brilliant."

"Obviously. What else?" he asks, brushing his knuckles over my ribs.

"Funny." Leaning down, I suck his earlobe into my mouth. "And you _fuck_ like you hack."

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Please tell me the next words out of your mouth aren't going to be _quick_ and _sloppy_."

I laugh. "Definitely not."

"All right then," his face relaxes, "proceed."

"My memory's a bit fuzzy. Perhaps I could use a reminder."

Smiling, he pulls the covers over our heads and does just that.

 **~ITL~**

I spend the next four days glued to Edward's side. Morning walks lead to brunches by the beach, and moonlit dinners give way to heated mojito-driven frolics in the sheets. We talk and we touch and we share little things about ourselves that others may not have been able to understand. I show him some of the software and applications I've created, and he teaches me a thing or two about hacking, including how he breached my system. It's humbling, but the sting is soothed by feather-soft kisses on my shoulders and the way he stares at me when he thinks I'm not looking.

On our final morning together, I broach the only subject he seems unusually evasive about. "So am I still being considered for an opportunity at The Cullen Group?"

"Of course."

"Well I wasn't sure. You don't seem keen on talking about it."

He pulls an envelope from his back pocket and slides it across the table.

"What's this?"

"Tiffany Haddish's text records with the name of the person who bit Beyoncé."

"Really?"

" _No_. Those are your travel accommodations. Two weeks from today you'll need to be in Chicago. We'll bring you on as a consultant until you decide if it's a good fit for you."

"What exactly is it that I'll be doing?"

"You'll be able to create your own role for the most part and negotiate your salary accordingly."

His answer is vague, but I admit I like the idea of having the professional freedom to do what I like.

"What other perks are there?" I joke. "You've gotta sell me on this Masen."

"Any hardware you want will be at your fingertips." He reaches for my hand and brings them to his lips. "Anything you create will be yours outright." Pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles, his eyes bore into mine. "And I'll get to work closely with you. Day and night."

 _Where do I sign?_ "Hopefully the higher ups will want me as much as you do."

"Trust me. _They do_."

 **~ITL~**

Two weeks later, in a conservative dress and uncomfortable heels, I hustle up Michigan Avenue to meet Edward before my first day at The Cullen Group. He's waiting at the corner for me, drumming his fingers on the strap of the messenger bag draped across his torso and looking like the poster boy for corporate casual chic if there is such a thing.

"Good morning." He slides his hand behind my neck and gives me a kiss that's hardly appropriate for public viewing, much less a crowded city street. "Sleep well?"

He knows I didn't because he left my hotel room only a few short hours ago after a long evening of us making up for what we couldn't do over FaceTime or text the past couple of weeks. "Not really."

He grins. "Nervous?"

"Should I be?"

His smile falls a bit, but he recovers it quickly.

"You're worried I won't keep this a secret, aren't you?"

"Not at all." He traces a fingertip across my lips. "I trust you, Bella. And I know you're trustworthy enough to keep _all_ of my secrets."

"What secrets?"

He tips his head toward the tall mirrored building on the next block. "Come on, let's go."

I follow him across the street through a set of revolving doors. Trailing behind the throngs of employees filing into the building, we hit a bank of elevators. While the majority waits, we slip through an unmarked door beside the security guard's post.

"Private entrance?"

"Something like that," he murmurs, pressing a number into a keypad to open yet another door. "You want to take the stairs or the elevator?"

"Have you seen the shoes I'm wearing?"

"Yes," says a familiar voice coming in from behind me, "and they're not nearly as fabulous as my ascot was at the party."

Yorkie steps around us and presses the singular button on the wall. The elevator doors open immediately and he sashays inside, swinging his man-bag as he goes.

"Good to see you again, Yorkie."

"You as well, Miss Swan."

The doors close and the elevator descends, though no buttons have been pushed. "Your offices are below ground level?"

"Five stories below to be exact," Yorkie answers, smoothing down the lapels of his suit jacket.

"You don't say." I smirk at Edward and thumb in his partner's direction. "I guess the devil _does_ wear Prada."

Edward laughs and Yorkie even cracks a smile as the elevator doors open.

"You're the worst," he teases, bumping my hip with his. "Sit by me at lunch."

Edward leads me back through a maze of frosted glass walls and doors. There are no nameplates or indications of what's where.

"Here we are." He stops short in front of a door and opens it for me. "This'll be your office."

The room is sleek and modern, and while there's no view to speak of, the hardware more than makes up for it. In the middle of the desk is a large stack of paperwork.

"Please tell me that pile isn't for me."

"I'm afraid so, but if you have any questions, I'm right across the hall."

The next two hours are spent with a mousy blonde from HR named Tanya hovering over me while I fill out forms and sign countless non-disclosure agreements. At Volturi I only recall signing one, but apparently The Cullen Group doesn't like to take any chances with information being leaked. I hear a small knock on my door and look up to find Edward peeking in from the hallway.

"Want to grab a coffee?"

"Sure, but first I need to visit the ladies room, and you're going to need to draw me a map."

He chuckles. "Go to the end of the hall, hang a left and it's the first door on your right."

"Got it."

As I make my way down the hallway, I notice silhouettes in each of the offices, but hear nothing. I'm so focused on making a mental note to ask Edward if this place is soundproof that once I reach the end of the hall I can't remember if it's the first door on the right or left.

"Crap," I mutter, looking between the three doors in front of me. "Let's try this one." Opening the door on the right, I fumble blindly in the dark for the light switch along the wall only to find that I'm actually in a meeting room of some sort. Centered in the room is a long glass table, with writing etched onto every inch, all of which is surrounding a large emblem in the middle.

"No fucking way," I whisper, edging closer to get a better look in hopes that my eyes are deceiving me.

Reaching down, I ghost my fingers over a pyramid scored into the glass with a large circle jutting out and around what I can only assume is supposed to be an all-seeing eye. "This isn't real."

It _can't_ be real.

I've never given much credence to this kind of thing, in fact I've always brushed it off as the stuff of lore from crazy conspiracy theorists, Jay-Z fans, and Dan Brown books. My mind races, trying to remember anything I've ever learned about this group. Wealth and power and influence keep springing to mind, but so does the eerie facet that's often associated with most secret societies. The element of the occult. Devil worshipping and satanic rituals and animal sacrifices. All of which are a hard-no for me.

I flinch as the door clicks closed behind me. "Bella."

Frozen and momentarily unable to find my voice, I don't turn around.

"Bella, look at me."

Taking a shaky breath, I twist just enough to see him staring back at me through dark eyes and a furrowed brow. For a split-second when I meet his gaze, his expression softens. The hard set of his jaw relaxes and his shoulders drop slightly, but the moment I open my mouth to speak his entire body stiffens.

"What _are_ you?"

Tilting his head, he clasps his hands behind his body.

My voice trembles. " _Tell me_ what you _are_."

"You'll have to be more specific. Don't you mean what _we_ are?"

"Is there even a difference?"

"My guess is you already know _what_ we are, though I'm certain the misconceptions about us are at the forefront of your mind."

"Enlighten me then."

"That's precisely what we do." He steps forward until he's inches away from my face. "And what we've done for centuries." Circling me now, he slips his hands into his pockets and keeps his voice even. "We enlighten. We influence." His breath tickles the back of my neck. "We _illuminate_."

Taking a seat at the table, he gestures for me to sit beside him. Although I admit a part of me wants to run away from this room screaming, a bigger part of me is curious as to why I'm here.

"The Illuminati … it's real?"

He nods once before tracing his finger along the emblem. "We are."

"For what purpose?" I ask, lowering myself onto the chair beside him.

He inhales deeply, keeping his eyes trained on the insignia. "For the purpose of progress. We're a collective of elite individuals who've committed ourselves to the advancement of humanity."

"O-kay."

He smirks. "Independent of all human divisions."

"Meaning?"

"No religious or political affiliations whatsoever. We belong to _none_ for the benefit of _all_."

"This has nothing to do with me, Edward. Why am I here?"

"It has everything to do with you."

"How?"

"We're all a part of the eternal circle." His fingertip dips into the groves of the ring descending from the pyramid. "An infinite design that helps us understand that our actions, however great or small, potentially have the power to shape the world around us. The average person goes through the motions, merely existing day to day. But peppered in among the masses are those who are not only capable of doing extraordinary things, but also have the foresight to see their impact on the evolution of humanity. We seek out these individuals to help them understand their purpose and guide them as they reach their full potential. The elite are exceptional, and _you_ , Bella Swan, are most definitely one of us."

Twisting my lips, I shake my head. "I'm definitely _not_ exceptional."

"You are."

"I'm an _idiot_ , Edward! I sat there and gobbled up every single line of bullshit you fed me."

"Bella—"

"Every word out of your mouth."

"It was all true."

Bolting upright from my seat, I move to leave when he catches my arm.

"Please," he breathes. "Just hear me out." His thumb sweeps gently over the inside of my wrist. "Please."

Sitting down once more, I watch him take my trembling hand in his and hold it to his face. "Stop it!"

I tear my hand away. "No more lies."

"I never lied."

"Fine, no more omissions and outright bullshit."

His jaw clenches as he grips the armrest.

"And don't worry about me telling anyone your precious secrets." I jerk my thumb behind me. "Little Tanya from HR back there is probably notarizing the non-disclosure agreements as we speak. I won't be able to breathe a word of this without being committed."

The corner of his mouth raises a bit. "That's probably true."

"I'm not amused."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"So why am I here? I have no wealth and therefore no power. Apart from a little innovation, I have nothing to offer."

"I respectfully disagree. One of the many misconceptions about us is that this," he taps on the pyramid, "speaks only to monetary wealth. While one side of the pyramid does represent affluence, the three other sides signify the other forms of wealth."

"What other form is there?"

"Well someone like you is considered a wealth of knowledge while others might have a wealth of influence or power."

"And?"

" _And_ … your knowledge is the wealth we wish to acquire."

"You want my applications, don't you?"

"Not exactly."

My gaze lands on the all-seeing eye on the table. "Sure it is. My facial recognition software would make your job a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it? To keep an eye on the masses and extract those you deem elite."

"Another misconception, I'm afraid." He brushes a finger over the triangles surrounding the eye. "See these streams here?"

I nod.

"They represent the light that guides us."

"Okay, not going to lie, you're sounding a little like David Koresh right now with the light business."

He snorts. "That's definitely not my intention. I don't know if I can explain it right. Every day we do our best to work towards the betterment of our fellow man in some way. My step-dad likens us to mirrors, reflecting the light onto those we seek to help."

"And the eye?"

"The eye is a reminder to focus."

"On the light?"

He leans forward in his seat, taking my hands in his. "On the truth."

 _The truth_.

I'm hesitant to ask him his truth, because I love his lies.

"Tell me something true, Edward."

"Something true," he repeats quietly before clearing his throat. "Okay. The truth is that I was captivated by you before I even met you. I fell for you over a period of two days, six hours and forty-two minutes. It was maddening, but line by line of code, you had me hooked."

"I don't follow."

"No one has _ever_ been able to keep me out that long."

"My security system?"

He nods. "But then I met you and you were everything I had built up in my mind and more. Sharp and funny and _so_ fucking beautiful. I'd never felt anything like it."

Everything in me wants to believe him. Even with all the secrets, something about his words ring true because I've never felt anything like it either.

"Did you mean it? All the things you've been saying about us being … together."

"Every word was true. I want you."

I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but the question still remains. "But why do _they_ want me?"

He swallows. "In order for us to continue assisting in the progression of humanity, the organization must evolve as well. For centuries, our secrets have been hidden. Etched onto stone and glass and scrawled on parchment. Our secrets are socked away in safes and vaults around the world. Now that we're in the digital age, we think it's best to merge the past with the present. The only thing is, we've never been able to secure the information the way it needed to be … until now."

"Until now?"

"Until we found _you_."

My eyes go wide.

"With you as the architect of our security system and me at your side, all of our secrets will be safe."

I repeat his words from earlier. "Because no one's ever been able to keep you out." I smile. "Until me."

"Precisely."

"And no one's ever been able to breach what I've built … until you."

He takes my face in his hands. "The possibilities of what we can do together are endless."

"In work or in love?"

"Both," he whispers against my lips. "We can have it all, so long as we walk the path of the Enlightened _together_."

"I have so many questions."

"I'll answer every one."

"Devil worshiping?"

"False."

"Human or animal sacrifices?"

"Nope."

"Will I get to meet Jay-Z?"

"I'll see what Yorkie can do."

Logically I know that a foundation built on omissions and deception is shaky at best, but what I'm feeling in this moment flies in the face of good judgment. Because the promise of a future with Edward makes me _want_ to be a believer.

"Say yes, Bella."

"Yes to what?"

"To all of it. To us and the extraordinary things we can do for this world." He grasps my hand and clutches it over his heart. "I need you to say it. Say you'll walk in the light with me."

My eyes fall closed, imagining what the future may hold. Life as I know it will be different. Gone will be the days of going through the motions for the sake of getting back into the good graces of an industry that's ostracized me on the word of a crook. If Edward's right, I'll have a purpose much greater than I've ever known. My life's work will be shrouded in secrecy, and I'll belong to none for the benefit of all. But even if we're cloaked in darkness, he'll be by my side to guide me in protecting the secrets held for centuries, and to lead me as I learn to walk in the light.

Slowly opening my eyes to meet his waiting stare, my reply comes out quiet but sure. "Yes."


End file.
